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sonny bill feelings is back in town

May 22nd, 2009

You heard about this, right? League’s disowned and/or prodigal son is back in town to play Union against the Wallabies and then to fight some other random Kiwi in a boxing match in Queensland before the Anthony Mundine headline bout. He even popped up on the Footy Show last night having a chat to Danny Weidler:

Full disclosure, I haven’t watched this because I can’t be arsed am very busy and important, but I notice he has quite a fetching ‘tan’. Sup Brooke Hogan! Also, I like your little hat, Sonny Bill. It’s very Zac Efron.

But the truth is, Sonny Bill Feelings’ return made me a bit … nostalgic. Musty water coloured miiiiiimoriiiiesssss … of the way we were. We had some good times, we Errol girls and Sonny Bill. So before Kiki and I head off to Campbelltown (C-TOWN, YEAH!) to watch the Tigers and Broncos tonight, let’s take a little walk down memory lane, shall we?

Where in the world is Sonny Bill Feelings? … this may be my favourite. I’ll never think of SBW without thinking of his Dora the Explorer beckpeck.

A Samoan in Paris … Sonny and his shoe phone! Oh, how we laughed!

Fugitivity and Fuckability – possibly Kiki’s greatest photoshop. If not, it’s up there.

Sadtimes in France … It even has a Lozzy period joke. Too good.

Willie 4 Sonny Bill – My FIRST EVER film spectacle (just scroll down).  IF this isn’t written up in some future film school text as ‘the first work of a budding auteur’ then I shall eat my hat. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, then youtube will probably (incorrectly) take it down for copyright infringement.

Sigh. Anyone got a hankie?

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errol newsbreak: surprising and completely unexpected news

September 24th, 2008

I have shocking news for you today, babies.  Absolutely fucking shocking.  In fact, I would suggest that before you read this post, you pull up a chair and move away from all sharp edges.  I don’t want someone losing an eye from fainting while they read Oh Errol.  We totes don’t have enough cash to pay off a lawsuit (unless you’re happy to accept sexual favours).

When I found out this morning I involuntarily spat my Mimosa all over Lachie’s school project.

Wait for it … Sonny Bill is unhappy.  AGAIN.  Are you surprised?  God knows I am!  Sonny Bill!  That little ray of sunshine … UNHAPPY?  My ticker almost can’t take the shock.

The only thing more completely gobsmacking is that Sonny Bill Feelings is injured at the moment and not playing.

Williams’ manager, Khoder Nasser, is travelling to France to check on the welfare of his client.

There are rumours Williams is upset at his treatment by Toulon president Mourad Boudjellal.

One source said: “The guy is a tyrant who is giving Sonny Bill hell.”

Williams is out injured at the moment with a leg problem.

Sonny Bill Feelings, INJURED AND SOOKY? What kind of topsy-turvy world is this?

[Lozzy doesn't even think he is injured btw. She thinks he had a tanty that he wasn't getting enough attention and was stuck with another losing side, so he had Mama Williams send over a note saying he had his period to get him out of it. YOU KNOW IT'S LIKELY!]

Word is he may even want to come back to the doggies, and wouldn’t they be glad to have him?

Okay do you know what? I can’t keep up this sarcasm any longer. It’s burning my throat (or is that the Breakfast Margarita I had to get over my faux shock?).  Either way.

Oh, Sonny Bill Feelings.  Sonny, Sonny, Sonny.

He is as steady and predictable as a Pete Murray song.  As repetitive as the Roosters in attack.  As constant as the tides. I’ll say it again: until bitch discovers lithium, he’ll never be happy.

Well, he might be.  The other possibility, of course, is that Sonny is a normal, healthy, functioning young man, and he is only crying over his croissant right now because it just so happens that everyone he comes across happens to be REALLY REALLY MEAN.

Now we Errol girls are nothing if not Dedicated Journalists, determined to bring you the truth at any cost.  So I nipped down to the shops for an international phone card and called up Toulon this morning to get the 411 from Sonny Bill.

Lucky for you I also speak fluent Kiwi, because the Man in Question – also known as ‘the Fugitive‘ – revealed all, and I have translated it for you.  Turns out those rugby frogs are even meaner than Folkesy.  They won’t even let him shoulder charge.  Heartless Frenchies.  And Umaga didn’t even defend him.  Umaga! 

What heppened to Kiwi solidarity? 

But the last straw was when they put the Dummies’ Guide to Rugby in Sonny’s Dora the Explorer Backpack one training session and asked him to learn all those trucky new rules.  It’s pretty much made his life hell over there.  IT’S CAUSE HE’S POLY, ISN’T IT?

But Sonny, my lad, I asked, surely this is no worse than the hell you endured at the hands of those ruthless Bulldogs?  What with their ‘training’ sessions, and constant refusal to use pages from your BIG BOOK OF IDEAS to revolutionise the club?

Oh no, there is something else, isn’t there, Sonny?  You can tell Dr. Sassy. No judgment. You miss your manlove, don’t you?  Ever since he left, it’s just not the same.  I knew it.  You’ve been dumped for Greg Inglis, and it hurts, doesn’t it?

That’s right, kittens. Without Anthony ‘the Man’ Mundine by his side to remind him that a ruck is a rugby term, and not a person, like Ruck Astley, Sonny Bill Feelings has been wearing his Sonny-Bill-sadface.


… Choc? Where are you Choc?

And if, like me, you are moved by Sonny Bill’s story of trauma and totally sympathise with his plight, you will be pleased to know you can now send him messages of love and support via the Daily Telegraph

And that concludes our news update for today.  You stay classy, San Diego.

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footy observations: … homer, ozzie and the straw

August 14th, 2008
The French Sirens are still Singing

For awhile, I was hopeful. Hopeful that the Olympics would completely blanket the sports pages and we’d be free of stories about THE DEATH OF RUGBY LEAGUE for two or three weeks. Sadly, no. Sonny Bill Feelings’ fugitive saga continues, and now Greg Inglis is apparently considering drinking the Khoder Nasser koolaid and heading to France.

I’m missing something, aren’t I? About the lure of the Nasser, and about Anthony Mundine. They speak and I hear english, everyone else apparently hears the sweet and seductive chimes of silver bells or the stirring roar of a “man with balls” and a rugby league role model.

If the courts ever do find Sonny Bill, will he be dressed in sunshine yellow robes, brushing Khoder Nasser’s hair, chanting “Jesus loves you” and answering only to the biblical name Meschach?


(The Polyphonic Spree are pissed you stole their look, by the way).

And Greg is kind of the last straw. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I have a lot of opinions, and even more rage, and even more love for league, but I’m finally spent. I’m happy to say to all the boys that if they want to go to France, just go to France. Off you go babies, on your bikes. I hear the south of France is lovely. Enjoy the scenery! Try the cotes d’agneaux!

Mmmmmmm cotes d’agneaux.

This is why you don’t visit the Springfield Mystery Spot

There is something that we really should be worried about, and I’m ninety percent sure that something is in the water over at Canterbury. Jessica’s beloved Reni Maitua is out for the rest of the season after a shoulder reconstruction. You might have guessed that things were Not Pretty when she heard the news. And after she had finally cried herself to the point of exhaustion and passed out on Intern Greg Bird’s shoulder, I had him move her to the couch and look up the rest of the Bulldogs team.

Turns out Reni’s busted shoulder is in fine company. It joins Willie Tonga’s announcement he’s heading to the Cowboys, Sonny’s defection to the Children of God – I mean, rugby – Arana Taumata being shipped out for punching someone’s jaw, Tim Winitana’s broken rib, and Ben Roberts and Lee Te Maari’s Cronulla punch-up dramaz as just one more reason why Belmore oval is a ghost town. WHAT IS GOING ON? How is it possible to lose so many players without actively knocking them off? Did they piss off the mob or something? Cause this shit is ridiculous.

As far as I can tell, this turn of events leaves only Hazem El Masri and … um, who else is left in the dogs? Nick Youngquest? Can he still play? Or is he still busy rescuing a local resident’s washing machine and household pets from a domestic fire?

I know Jarrad Hickey can’t still be playing, because he was accidentally hypnotised into thinking he’s a chicken; Andrew Holdsworth has been overdoing it on nerve tonic, and Andrew Ryan may or may not be suffering radiation poisoning.

That pretty much leaves us with John Kite, Ben Barba … and Daryl Strawberry. Right?

Sydney Water and Brian Waldron, I want you to get onto this immediately please. Jessica will have a stroke if it goes on much longer. She’s already started cackling at inappropriate moments and collecting cans of beans and foil to make helmets so she can climb into the basement and live as a recluse until the 2009 season starts. Bitch is seriously close to going off the deep end.

In the meantime, Jessica honey, why don’t we go to a happy place for awhile?

Titans Learn Read Good


pic: www.goldcoast.com.au

Oh yeah. That’s the good stuff.

Either Scotty Prince is pretty much an angel from above, or these boys have even better publicists than Big Dell, because it seems he and the Gold Coast Titans are launching an educational program.

An educational program. Called TLC. For little kids who need extra support at school. REALLY? Are you kidding me Scott Prince? Are you trying to kill me with cuteness? DAMMIT SCOTTY! I’M ONLY HUMAN. MY OVARIES, THEY CAN’T TAKE IT.

I was already feeling a little bit woozy when I saw that adorable picture of you with your kids. If this is some kind of late run to win the Snuggliest Man in League award, then all I can say is … it’s working. Tip of the cap to you, Mr. Prince. I don’t think the other bitches stand a chance.

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footy observations – fugitivity + fuckability

July 31st, 2008

Oh children. The drama! THE DRAMA! My ticker can’t take it. The poor little thing is on struggle street. Aunty Kiki needs a very very strong drink. A Valium martini even (extra olives pls).

Rugby League has always been delightfully dramatic. Melodramatic even. It’s part of it’s charm. Shit is never boring. But recently we have reached entirely new levels of dramz. I never thought the words ‘international manhunt’ would be used in a league article. But here we are, with our very own Sonny Bill shaped fugitive. On the run from the lawwwws. It wasn’t him, IT WAS THE ONE ARMED MAAAAN!

You heard it here first kids. I for one can’t believe that SBW has managed to stay unfound for this long. I was sure he would get sprung crying IT’S BECAUSE IM POLYNESIAN ISN’T IT at a shopkeeper who told him he can’t use Australian money in the UK.

In these uncertain times, one must take comfort in the familar. Let us ignore Sonny Bill’s histronics and retreat to our favourite activity – sexually objectifying football players. Together, we will weather this storm using their bulging biceps and glistening thighs. Shelter in the hot babies, shelter in the hot.

In last weeks Hot Man News, I introduced you a few young guns of the cute persuasion. Lets check back with them shall we? Everyone loves an update!

I am happy to report that Marc-with-a-C Herbert had a cracker of a debut game and we couldn’t be prouder. We like to think he read the Hot Man News and was emboldened by it. And by all accounts he seems like a lovely young boy.

MARC Herbert has no tattoos. No streaks. The kid even moved back with his parents on Monday.

“So, yeah, nothing too exciting,” he smiles. “Although I do grow my hair into a bit of a mop occasionally . . . but then I cut it.”

AAAAW! Bet he has never pissed on someone hmmmm Todd Carney! Sassy and I watched him lead the Raiders to a 46 – 4 victory against the Titans on Saturday evening. And by ‘watched’ I mean sit at the Henson Park Hotel, sink schooeys and yell sexually inappropriate remarks at the TV screen. Much to the amusement of the old boilers around us. Anyway, well done kitten, you look adorable on TV.

I am however not pleased with the recent developments on John Williams’ face. On Friday night I tuned in to watch The Worst Game of The Year (Parra v Cowboys) thinking sweeeeet at least I can perve on JohnJohn Williams. But nooooooooo he had to go and grow some sort hair based monstrosity on his face didn’t he? NO JOHN JOHN NO! You see, baby, the beard is your brothers thing. Your thing is to be hot, clean cut and barely clothed. The thing you were sporting on Friday night doesn’t even look like a real beard. It looks like the eyeshadow beard I created for Daniel Freeman in our high school production of Into The Woods.

[I actually would like to point out to JohnJohn that his beard is heading dangerously into Kevin-the-straight-guy from Project Runway territory:

Shave immediately pls. - Sassy]

Now lets talk about Kayne Lawton. Oh, KayLaw. You are by far my greatest achievement. We discovered you mister, and don’t you forget about it. The amount of google searches we have had about you this week is unbelievable. It’s almost a…movement. AND ALL THANKS TO US. In my mind you didn’t exist until we blogged about you. You can thank us by wearing 70s shorty shorts and cleaning my pool.

(Note – Sassy is making noise about discovering Kayne and I guessss technically she did. So KayLaw please direct your sexual favours to the one with the fro.)

Kayne is so visually pleasant that he has my brothers girlfriend (hi Jade!) actively watching under 20s Titans games and messaging me about it. This is a girl who up until a few months ago would roll her eyes everytime footy was discussed. Kayne has The Power my friends. David Gallop, if you’re reading this (what am I saying ‘if’ for, I know you are)….please, for the love of all that is good and holy – use KayLaw’s molten hotness in next years ad campaign. Provided you have any money left over from suing Sonny Bill’s tanty throwing ass.


(To the straight mans reading this – I know I know, perviness overload. Im soz. I promise I’ll do a post about you know…actual football this weekend. I swear!)

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where in the world is sonny bill feelings?

July 28th, 2008

 Oh yeah, the saga continues. Now the Bulldogs have come out guns a-blazing to try and sue Monsieur Feelings and stop him playing for anyone else. But the Supreme Court says they have to find him first.

And I should explain something at this point: If we Errol girls haven’t written anything serious about sbfeelings and his run from tha law it’s because we’re too angry and offended.  We hate this whole thing more than when the jukebox at the Judgy eats our $20 and then refuses to play our T Rex, Whitney Houston and Daryl Braithwaite selections.

I’m also a bit worried that the British process-servers they send after him don’t follow the NRL and won’t know where to look for the fleeing Kiwi. That’s why I’ve decided to do everything I can to help Greenberg and the dogs and prepared a brief and informative Sonny Bill Feelings dossier.

Height: 191cm
Weight: 108kg
DOB: 3rd Aug 1985
Distinguishing features: approx. 95 Polynesian cultural tattoos
approx. 1 x douchebag ‘WILLIAMS’ tattoo across upper back
1 x Dora the Explorer backpack

Appearance: Likely sporting trenchcoat, fedora, look of confusion, and vacant stare.


Artist’s Rendering

Last Sighting: Heathrow Airport, London.

Suggested search areas:

Leicester Square area, central London. Suspect reported to be mesmerised by locations with brightly-coloured and/or flashing lights.

London Aquarium, likely attempting to commune with sea creatures.

Madame Tussaud’s Waxworks. Suspect believed to hold an affinity with David Beckham. May attempt to seek Beckham’s advice before deciding on future movements.

Buckingham Palace Forecourt. May attempt to meet the Queen.

Tate Modern Gallery. Namely, playing in the ‘Embankment’ exhibition. (Wheeee!)

Special case considerations: Target is not fluent in English. Do not try and engage verbally. Sign-language advisable.

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footy observations of the week: a samoan in paris

July 28th, 2008

I guess we have to say it – Sonny Bill. Sonny Bill has left on a jetplane for France to play rugby. I’ll warn you now, the only good part of this story is that a customs official spotted him leaving and phoned up Ray Hadley on 2GB to pass on the news. I love Australia!

Oh, Sonny Bill. Now his svengali manager Khoder Nassar and professional troublemaker Anthony Mundine want us to think about your feelings.

STOP BEING SO SELFISH GUYS! WHAT ABOUT SONNY?

Well I’ll say it. I’m done with Sonny Bill’s Feelings. And I pity the stewardesses who had to sweep up his mountains of damp tissues on his flight to Paris. He’s the weepy kid in class who cries if he drops his sandwich. He’s the spoiled cousin who steals your Mariah Carey Christmas CD because he didn’t get one and really really wants it. Muuuuum! I bet he even had a tanty when he got off the plane in Singapore and realised he left his Ectivity Peck in the seat pocket.

He will never be happy. At least never while he’s not taking his lithium. Bitch is dead to me.

Also, I lied when I said there was only one good thing about this story. The other one is that Sonny Bill Feelings thought he could creep out of the country unnoticed. Of course! Six foot tall rugby league players are SO HARD TO SPOT in a city like Paris on a continent with little to no Polynesian migration. Maybe he even wore sunglasses to throw them off his trail. GENIUS! Way to blend in Sonny baby.

[Note - I like to think Sonny went all Get Smart on our asses and wore a fake moustache, fedora and beige trenchcoat to the airport in a desperate attempt to escape unnoticed. I bet Choc Mundine packed all the spy essentials in SBW's Dora the Explorer backpack. - Kiki]


Khoder … is that you? Herro? This shoe phone is hard to use.

You know SBW landed in Singapore and thought he was already in France. He’s probably wondering why all the French are so short and Asian looking. And why are they eating noodles, where are the croissants? AND THE BERETS? I WAS PROMISED BERETS.


Bon-jour? Guys, bon-jour?

All this drama tires me, but at least I had Roosters vs Manly on Sunday afternoon to soothe the soul. Is there anything cuter than family day? I say no. All those little kiddies snuggled in their ponchos staring eagerly at the football, and rushing onto the field to mob Willie Mason. They all love Willie Mason. Who can explain why? I swear my ovaries twinged … just a little bit. Mainly thanks to the six year old boy behind me who announced in the first half:

Manly suck. They are wasting my time.

He’s bitter! Like meeee!

It even warmed my cold black heart. I was so impressed I even managed not to yell out anything pornographic about the Hot Pioneer David Williams or the fact that men playing football in the rain may well be one of the hottest things god ever created. You know, because I didn’t want to corrupt the children. It took a lot of willpower let me tell you. I hope all those parents appreciated it, dammit.

SEE WHAT I WAS DEALING WITH? I’m pretty much Ghandi right now in terms of self-restraint. Also, who would have guessed Matt Ballin and Riley Brown were such snugglers?

While we’re talking about David Williams, can someone from Manly tell me what is this?

Are you doing in-house catalogues for Manly merchandise? Or do you just pay the hot pioneer a really povo salary so he has to resort to posing in Rivers catalogues so he can afford his rent? Will he be selling men’s sweaters and lightweight moccasins (perfect for sailing!) next? I don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong, I kinda love it. But no, I don’t understand. You can totally tell they were using a wind machine.

We’re also prouder than ever of fiesty little intern Brownie. Brian Waldron from the Storm has threatened legal action but Oh Errol is having none of that. Yesterday after the game we took Brownie to Ruby’s for a latte and told him stand strong, baby. The Storm might threaten a defamation suit, but truth is a defence to defamation (thanks, law degree!). More importantly if anyone tries to take you to court we’ll cut them good. I also have a mean right hook (thanks boxing trainer Sandra!).

And Brownie stood strong. OH YEAH, FIGHT THE MAN!

I’m being serious though that I can’t take much more of this. With Gaz leaving, Brownie going postal, and Sonny Bull stealthily leaving the country we’re at our limit for dramz. Calm it down for a little while, will you kids? We’re getting old. Also, we’re rapidly running out of gin.

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(very late) footy observations of the week

July 18th, 2008

So Kiki and I have just finished our weekly game of texas hold’em to decide who gets to write up the footy observations of the week … and it looks like I won. Sorry it’s a little bit late, but to be honest we don’t really know how to play poker and that makes things a bit tricky. Mainly we just drink and make jokes about Queens. Anyway.  On to the footy!

Brett Hodgson and Anthony Quinn have both left the field

Starlight Hodgson played his last ever game at Campbelltown Oval against the Storm on Monday night, and I will try not to make any Starlight Foundation jokes today, because I want you to think I’m classy. (You know, cause he always looks like he’s just managing to beat back death in the form of a terminal illness? And is all grey-coloured and stuff? You know?? Never mind).

Starlight Bretty didn’t quite manage to pull off the fairytale and win his last match at the ground, but he also wasn’t the only one who had an undignified exit from the field. Little Anthony Quinn from the Storm was involved in a fairly intense collision. Specifically, a collision between his face and what I think was Ben Teo’s shoulder … and the results were not pretty. It wasn’t so much a trip to Disneyland as a full package tour to Euro-Disney. Daaaamn. I think his nose may have been two dimensional afterwards.

But since his teammate Brett White is also struggling with a back injury, maybe the two can nurse each other back to health? I know you want to boys.


Awwwww.

Beaver and Ned Kelly

We’ve all also been busy this week dealing with the trauma of losing Mark Gasnier to French Rugby Union, but it seems like the footy abandonment isn’t stopping, because our beloved Steve Menzies announced on the Footy Show that he’ll be leaving to play Super League in England in 2009. Not Beaver!

Kiki spent a good part of her adolescence obsessed with Beaver, and considering I spend precious hours of my life photoshopping sepia pics of Beaver for this blog, I think you all know how I feel about him. He is lovely. In fact, Corporal Menzies of the Light Brigade is probably one of the true gentlemen of league.

So basically this is heartbreaking news. Who am I going to make WWI references about now? Who is Ray Warren going to call EVERGREEN and a JUGGERNAUT? It feels a bit like the end of my youth.

But even though I’ll miss him like crazy, the one bright spot is that his announcement got him onto the Footy Show with that hot bearded bitch David Williams. My pants! They can’t handle it!

I was overwhelmed with joy at the awesomeness of seeing Beaver and Ned Kelly at the one desk. I actually may have swooned. Especially now that I know for certain what I always suspected: that Ned Kelly has that massive gold-prospecting beard because he Just Can’t be Bothered. I love a hot man that doesn’t give a shit. Next to a hot man with low standards, it’s my favourite kind of man. And if the Footy Show goes through with their threat to give our hot bitch Williams a makeover and shave it off I am letting you all know now I will cut a bitch. I love that crazy beard.


Beaver also made me love him even more than before by having an awesome wife and possibly the fattest baby in the world. If you’re reading Menzieses … adopt me?

The rest of the show was apparently ‘Ladies’ Night’ and involved heinous and boring things like Bryan McFadden. Is that really what they think women want to see on television? His songs are completely and utterly awful. How about we just don’t talk about it and move right onto my favourite half-Islander odd couple.

Willie 4 Sonny Bill 4eva

This week Rugby League Weekly published the annual players’ poll, which says (pretty overwhelmingly) that they think Big Willie Mason is the most overrated player in the game. And while I love Big Willie like a sister, it’s kinda true. Not because he’s a terrible player. More because bitch can’t keep his mouth shut about how fierce he is and is basically a menace to himself and to others.

Boring news, right?

But do you know who defended him? His old Bulldogs BFF Sonny Bill Feelings.

I KNEW IT. EVEN AFTER THEIR HUGE FALLING OUT. I KNEW THOSE CRAZY KIDS STILL SECRETLY LOVED EACH OTHER!

Ok clearly I’m a bit emotional about this. What can I say? I love love! And because I can’t get manage to get anything comprehensible out without USING EXCESSIVE CAPS, I’m just going to present my feelings in video form. Thanks to Kiki for the killer songchoice. Enjoy!

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the friday night recap: roosters vs bulldogs

June 29th, 2008

This is a Big Game. Well, not a big game in the sense of being packed with Big Names, because 85 Bulldogs players are currently out injured, and the Roosters have six boys who are off because they’re busy getting ready for State of Origin. Instead we have lots of little baby Roosters (chicks?) having their first go at first-grade, and lots of Bulldogs I’ve never heard of. Also not really in the sense of a big crowd. I can see two little boys who are supporting the dogs, the regulars over in the chookpen, and … well yes. Let’s not talk about that.

What we do have though is the long-awaited return of Sonny Bill Feelings. I can’t wait to see whether he storms onto the field and single-handedly crushes all the inexperienced chickens for a thousand one-man tries, or whether he comes out wearing his Sonny-Bill-Feelings-sadface and spends eighty minutes rocking and crying on the sideline.

And it should be a big game in terms of grudge, if nothing else. We all remember the dogs-chooks ‘bred not bought’ fiasco, and even though former Bulldogs Braith Anasta and Big Willie aren’t playing tonight, I still think there’ll be some tension on the field. I settle in and send up a little prayer for some grudge-match biff. If they all play nice, I will be so disappointed.

The boys kick off and get started, and within 90 seconds the Bulldogs have christened the game and given away a penalty with a forward pass to the always-concerned Andrew Ryan. He always looks so very, very sad. It troubles me.

A little comic relief comes from the sidelines in the form of the Roosters Origin recruits sitting in the stands in what certainly look like some snappy little rental suits. Braith Anasta looks like nothing so much as a Hammerhead shark wearing a suit. Willie Mason looks like a schoolboy on human growth hormone and he turns and waves to the camera like a moron who’s never been on television before. OH HAI MUM! Anthony Tupou and Craig Fitzgibbon have that vague air of confusion about them that they always have when they’re together. It’s very endearing.

Roosters scrum feed, Roosters lose the ball. Bulldogs lose the ball. James Aubusson crushes Nick Youngquest in a monster of a tackle as he catches a long kick from Amos Roberts. It’s fantastic. Especially fantastic because I suspect Nick Youngquest may be a total douchebag and I like watching him suffer. More of that please!

More penalties. More intense tackling. Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff.

Someone single-handedly tackles the voluminous Jarrad Hickey and I’m a little amazed. That must be like felling a redwood, or moving a mountain. Sonny Bill loses the ball and Laurie ‘Jolie Laide’ Daley announces that whichever team plays the simplest tonight will win. I think whoever can actually hold the ball in their actual hands will win. It’s not even raining so bitches have no excuses. Maybe they need to use something on their palms before they play. Do they do that already? When I learned pole dancing we used hairspray and it works a treat. What was my point again?

Clearly the bulldogs care not for Laurie’s advice, because when they’re awarded another set of six they do not elect to ‘play simple’. Instead, they go absolutely insane. Hickey attempts to cross the line for a try but is held up and ends up smashed against the goal post vertically. The ball then heads back to Ben Roberts who spins erratically in a tackle and manages to kick the ball BACKWARDS. Awesome. Well done guys.

That reminds me – not only are Ben Roberts and Amos Roberts both playing tonight for different teams – we also have both Aubussons and both Paeas playing in the Roosters team tonight. I have trouble telling the Aubussons apart normally because they have similar haircuts (and I’m an idiot) so god knows what will happen tonight. At least Mickey and Lopini Paea have the decency to have radically different heads. God. Way to make my job difficult NRL.

When a knock on gives the Roosters a penalty, Reni Maitua cracks it, throws down the ball and stares daggers at the world in general. It is honestly terrifying. I feel like his piercing reptile eyes are burning through my skin.

When the Bulldogs regain possession Sonny Bill Feelings makes a beautiful break towards the right of the field and – facing five chickens in defence – offloads to our beloved Hazem El Masri on the right wing for a try. Aw Sonny Bill! Looks like a little boy somewhere has been taking his meds! Good for you bb.

The always serene Hazem converts for a 6-0 lead but SBFeelings isn’t having any of it. He stalks off downfield flushed-cheeked and enraged, arm veins protruding, grass plastered to his forehead, and my pants explode.

And while I will admit that the brooding thing is kinda hot, but would it kill you to crack a smile? Maybe I was wrong about those meds after all.

The chicklets counter with J Aub putting up a bomb from 30 metres out. Soliola rushes towards Douchequest and Heka Nanai in the race for the ball and there is a bit of confusion about what happens now so I will give you my version, which is obviously the right one. Douchequest leaps for the ball, misses with his hands, and kinda forearm butts it in a knock on. At this point Nanai is standing in front of him, doing nothing. Soliola is leaping over Nanai, arms outstretched, towards the ball. He knocks it sideways in the in goal and an Aubusson of some description collects it for a try.

Sadly the video ref calls Soliola’s bat a second knock on and denies the try, and I have to live with it. Bah.

More penalties, many bombs from the Bulldogs towards the chicks’ line, lovely takes from little Shaun Kenny-Dowall on the right and leaping Sam Perrett on the left. Voss is being a battler as usual and recycles the phrase “that is a good skill”. It wasn’t good commentary last week, and it won’t fly this week mister. Peter Sterling is still ranting about the Soliola/Aubusson no-try debacle. IT’S BEEN TEN MINUTES STERLO. EVEN I’M OVER IT NOW.

Sterlo wins me back though by being delightfully biased and yelling “there’s still time for the Roosters to win!” and suggesting that no-look passes are very “in vogue” today. Oh, Sterlo. Always up with the latest fashionz.

Forward passes, knock-ons, dropped balls. Amos Roberts falls over three or four times while collecting the ball. And seriously? Not a trace of rain in the sky. I am baffled.

J Aub offloads to Soliola and onto little Sam Perrett who makes a valiant dive for the corner, for what turns out to not quite be a try. Gold star for effort though kiddies. This brings on another period of borderline brilliance and borderline idiocy, as Setaimata Sa makes a lovely break through the line for a long run, then loses the ball only a metre from the tryline for no apparent reason to the defence. It’s collected by Douchequest, who runs what I think is giant figure eight horizontally on the field before handing it to Arana Taumata, who outruns Amos Roberts for a 70 metre try. Great name.

Hazem misses the conversion and it’s 10-0.

On the return, the chicklets grab the ball and are led upfield by wily Sam Perrett. Amos Roberts takes the ball over to the left and Sa sends an unexpected grubber into the corner for Brent Grose to ground for a try. Try! Excitement! Whole length of the field on only one tackle! And Sa can kick? Sa can kick! See Sa kick!

Related note to parents everywhere: Please stop naming your sons Brent.

Amos is flummoxed by the angle and misses the conversion. 10-4.

SBFeelings loses the ball. We see Big David Shillington flash some butt cheek for I think the third time so far. Bulldog Jarrad-with-an-A Hickey is taken off-field with a corked thigh. Poor guy. As injuries go, chicks don’t really go for the ‘corked thigh’, you know?

Mark O’Meley knocks on a ball with his crotch.

Halftime.

Back on the field, Amos Roberts falls over again. J Aub does good things in defence. More fumbles. Cryin Andrew Ryan threatens near the tryline. Amos makes a lovely run, and Perrett runs on, and Aubusson’s kick falls dead from El Masri. Paddo boy Anthony Cherrington makes another lovely break, and Amos drops another grubber kick for Sam Perrett to leap on in goal.

You adorable cheeky bastard.

Truthfully, I feel that this shouldn’t have been a try. It’s just a feeling. But then when I watch the replay I have to admit he was in field, and he did have his hand on the ball when it hit the ground. So why does it feel like he wasn’t actually in control of the ball? Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway because the video ref awards it on benefit of the doubt.

Also I’m kinda fine with that. Mainly, because I think he disallowed a good try earlier, and secondly because I am all for the benefit of the doubt rule. I like it. I think it’s nice. It’s like saying to the players: you tried really hard, and you did well, and I’m going to reward you with points. I believe in you. I BELIEVE IN YOU. Maybe if people were more supportive in general in the NRL, delicate little flowers like SBFeelings wouldn’t feel so alone and act out as a result. And if the I-BELIEVE-IN-YOU cultural revolution has to start with the video ref, then so be it.

From little things, big things grooooooooooow.

No conversion, and the score is 10-8 to the doggies.

At some point Nanai becomes concussed. Oh well. Just send him over to the sidelines to sit with corked-thigh Jarrad-with-an-A Hickey. Jarrad is, in fact, on the sidelines at this point riding the exercise bike, and I swear to you all I see fat rolls. I do believe we have another dark horse in the race for Fattest Man in League 2008. Oh yeah. Hickey’s comin for you Danny Wicks!

My boy J Aub yells ‘same again’ and drops another low kick for a Shaun Kenny-Dowall try. Predictable, but oh so satisfying. Amos remains defeated by the uprights and fails to convert.

12-8 to the chicklets!

SBFeelings has been a bit absent for awhile and I wonder if he’s off having a tear in the loos. J Aub accidentally headbutts Brad Morrin and draws blood. The penalties continue to rain down from heaven. In the next Roosters set Jake Friend comes perilously close to the tryline. Who the hell is Jake Friend? Where did he come from? A cross-field kick from teh Roosters finds SBFeelings in the in-goal area. Oh, there you are Sonny! Unfortunately though SBFeelings then has a moment of complete cock-eyed optimism and attempts to singlehandedly kick and chase out of goal. As you might have guessed, it doesn’t end well. Back to the loos with you Sonny.

Lil Amos grabs the ball and charges for the try line with three doggies dragging from his shirt. He deposits the ball on the tryline for what he thinks is no try and shakes his head at the COULDA-WOULDA-SHOULDA of it all. Sa makes me fall in love by tripping and falling right in front of Amos with his crazy masking tape headband on. Bless.

And I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. The video ref is starting the I-BELIEVE-IN-YOU revolution RIGHT NOW. He cares not that Roberts doesn’t think he scored a try – HE’S GIVING HIM ONE ANYWAY. You deserve it Amos baby! BECAUSE YOU’RE WORTH IT. This is insane. Amos is cackling with laughter and can’t believe it either. He shakes his head and converts for 16-10.

Is this the longest recap in history? It feels long.

More misdirected kicks, including one into a dog’s head. Tackles aplenty. Penalties ahoy. AND AN INTERCEPT!

Sa yoinks a Taumata pass from the air and storms off downfield in his crazy headband, fending off Maitua with a palm to his face and bellyflopping in goal for a 90 metre try. Sa can run? Sa can run! See Sa run! The Origin boys in the crowd jump and cheer with joy. Tupou is on some kind of two minute time-delay and as everyone is sitting down he finally stands up to see what all the fuss is about. Oh, Anthony.

Roberts nails the conversion for 24-10. 24-10! That’ll teach you all to tip the Bulldogs, and yes, I am looking at you Brad Fittler. Especially you.

Tupou is still grinning.

The doggies counter with a sneaky little pass via SBFeelings to Winetana for a try.

24-14 chicklets.

Time’s a-tickin, and on the buzzer the dogs are refused a try by the video ref for a push on Soliola. Ooooh, that lovin attitude didn’t last too long.

That means a fulltime win to the chicklets over the puppies. J Aub is robbed of man of the match in favour of the oft-falling Amos Roberts, but I make my peace with it when I realise they probably only did it as an excuse to ask Amos about the Unexpected Try. I would do the same thing, that whole thing was amazing.

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Footy Observations of the Week (by proxy)

June 18th, 2008

Since our usual footy observer, Kiki, has been the victim of a vicious Friday Night attack by the roads of Sydney and is having trouble with typing due to full-arm castage, this week you get me. Don’t complain or I’ll cut you good.

And in honour of our little drunken invalid, I will also write my observations in point form. Let’s pretend each star point is one of the stars that circled her head as she lay face down in the street.

* So Benji Marshall got in a fight at the Sapphire Suite on Sunday night, and some enterprising Kings Cross winner sold the pictures to the Daily Telegraph.

Benji claims he was provoked by a drunk fan, claims the photo was a ‘sting’, claims that going out with his mates is the only thing that MAKES HIM FEEL LIKE A NORMAL BOY AND NOW HE CAN’T EVEN DO THAT. THE BURDENS OF STARDOM!

My first reaction is that the ‘fight’ looks a lot like the head-grabbing thing they do in the dressing room before games. You know the one I mean? So maybe the whole thing really is just some innocent NRL skylarking.

My second reaction is … sigh, not again.

I’ve studied law, so I’m fairly certain that it will never be legal to just lock up league players between games like laboratory monkeys, although you have to admit it would solve a lot of problems. Apparently they have to be allowed ‘time to socialise’ and ‘liberty’. Whatever.

And as far as socialising goes, having disco danced with Gordon Tallis at Randwick Racecourse, I’ll say drunk league players are completely hilarious and I don’t really want to rob the world of that either.

What I want to know is why, in the name of the sweet baby Jesus, no one can stop them going to the Sapphire Suite. Remember the Sapphire Suite? In Kellett Street, where Baby Hayne and miscellaneous other Eels were shot at?

And if the threat of gunfire isn’t enough to keep idiots like Benji Marshall away from there, how about the fact that it’s a complete and utter shithole? I’m a drunken Sydney floozy and even I don’t go there. I don’t know one human being who isn’t a league player or a league groupie who goes there. I say somebody find the kids a new Peach Pit with a less offensive clientele and let’s be done with it. Or maybe just a big room of squishy balls, like they have at Ikea.

It did, however, make my day that Charlie Saleh, owner of the Sapphire Suite – I mean Sapphire Lounge (don’t wanna disrespect the rebranding) – said that out of the NRL “the only ones who don’t come any more are the Roosters, because they’ve been banned from going out in Kings Cross.”

That’s my team! They’re already banned! They just get drunk in their hotels like good boys. Love you babies!

And – I’m sure you’re all surprised – Big Willie Mason has something to say about it. Oh, Willie. Always the centre of attention, never the diplomat. That’s why we love you.

According to big Willie, Benji’s “a good bloke and he means well” … but he’s “a fiery little dude”. A FIERY LITTLE DUDE. God lova ya, Willie. That’s so the kind of thing you can only say about rugby league players when you’re the size of Willie Mason.

But what I love most is that it’s implying that Benji’s a loose cannon who gets himself into trouble and needs to learn some self-control. When Big Willie is suggesting that your temper is an issue, you’ve really hit rock bottom.

* And that brings me to Big Willie Origin news. Willie’s taken a battering this week for having so much to say about Origin, but then “going missing” when it comes to the game …. and Willie, love, you have to admit it’s true. Much as I love your rantings, I’d much rather see you actually perform on the field. Maybe smash Brent Tate to a pulp or something. There was not nearly enough of any of that in Origin II.

But then Willie comes out with this and shocks me all over again:


It’s the lowest thing you can do.

It was such an empty feeling after Origin II; it was embarrassing not to even score a try. I’m burning to get out there and redeem myself, as are all the boys.You’re hurting enough as it is. You don’t need a former great who is held in such high regard bagging the team and individuals.

It doesn’t help to have ex-players come out and bag you.

YOU’RE HURTING ENOUGH AS IT IS. This is almost as amazing as the moment when Sonny Bill Williams asked us to remember that he has feelings too.

Since when are there so many feelings in football? Have Mason and Sonny Bill Feelings been having spa-days together and discussing their emotions? Taking group therapy? I don’t understand how they’re suddenly all so emotionally expressive and self-aware. I kinda love it … but it’s unnerving.

Don’t you just wish you could bake a cake made of rainbows and smiles, so they’d all eat it and be happy? Or in Willie’s case, so he could go back to expressing his feelings by smashing Queensland on the football field. Cause that would be great.

* That reminds me, Sonny’s upset again this week. I think the Bulldogs put out a media release without him signing off on it. Or maybe he lost a sock. Or watched a documentary about endangered puffins. Or his girlfriend hung up the phone without saying ‘I love you’ first. The usual.

* And finally, I think I should also announce that we have a new contender in 2008 for Fattest Man in League. Congratulations, Danny Wicks! Look out for an official winner at the end of the season.

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Footy Observations of the Week # 2

May 27th, 2008

I’ve decided this will now be a regular thing for our little bloggy. Too much hilarity happens in rugby league to be encapsulated in just two recaps a week.

Lets talk about Sonny Bill shall we? What a week he’s had! Chock-a-block full of whinging, punching and some spectacular verbal diarrhea. On last weeks Footy Show he did an incredibly ill advised interview with Phil Gould, attempting to explain to The People why 400 grand a year just isn’t enough for his hot ass to live on. I’m starting to wonder just what sort of mentally challenged publicist SBW has hired.

Lets review the things we learnt in this car crash of an interview -

* SBW has ‘issues’ with the clubs management. ie – he doesn’t particularly love his bosses. Who the hell does heart their boss? No one, thats who.

* He hasn’t actually been offered a rugby contract of any kind. Nor has the ARU ever formally shown interest in him. At this point the choice of Union v League exists entirely in SBW’s head. Thus making all his public tanty throwing totally unneccessary. And extra annoying.

* He displays a somewhat tenuous grip on reality when he compares himself to the ‘average guy making $80,000 a year’. Who is this average guy earning 80 grand and when can I date him?

* SBW uses the good old “I’ve got to look after my family” justification. Despite the fact he is a single 22 year old with no wife or children. Can $400 grand a year not help feed your cousins SBW? Must be big eaters those Williams.

* In one of the best television moments in the history of the civilised world, Sonny Bill utters the words “people have to remember…I have feelings too”.

I swear to you readers, I actually slid off the lounge in a fit of incredulous giggles. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE JUST SAID THAT. Amazing.

Unsuprisingly, The People’s reaction to this interview wasn’t exactly positive. And this was predictably displayed in the press. And I think SBW was genuinely shocked that his Big Interview wasn’t the public relations success he had envisaged. But but…why don’t they liiiike me? I’m a good guuuuy! I swear! I’M JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!

I honestly think Sonny Bill is probably a lovely guy and means well. But best intentions, road to hell etc etc. I think he just can’t understand why people find his whinging intolerable. He doesn’t get why The People just can’t sympathise with him. I think he is genuinely confused that people don’t understand where he’s coming from.

The problem is…he has been so famous from such a young age he simply can’t comprehend what it’s like to be normal. How can you be with all that constant adulation? Sonny, you are not just like everyone else. And you never will be.

Now lets discuss the delicious fall out from this saga. Sonny Bill’s palpable raaaage! LOVE IT! He was ‘hell in football boots’ last night against the Sharks. Bitch was pissed. Every tackle was fuelled by anger and it was awesome to watch. Usually he’s not one to start fights but last night he niggled till he could niggle no more. SBW and Greg Bird came thisclose to starting some midfield biff. Sadly the referee put a stop to that. Props to Birdy for going up against a pissed off Sonny Bill. That man has balls. And possibly a death wish.

The crowning moment occured when SBW stripped the ball from Ben Ross (as he has every right to). Ben Ross objected to this and pushed Sonny fairly hard in response. SBW reacted by jumping to his feet and throwing a cracker of a punch. WOOOO! I love biff. Is there anything greater? I say no.

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SBW you are a naughty naughty boy!

Now! Let us turn our attention to the awesomness that is Scott Prince. I know hes a Queenslander but I still adore him. I love the fact the Channel 9 commentators have labelled him ‘The Surgeon’ due to his clinical dissection of the opposition. Why they can’t just call him ‘The Prince’ is beyond me. I am also on a mission to find to solve the mystery of his ethnicity. He looks like no man I’ve ever seen. So lovely and caramelly. Mmm…caramel.

Anyway, he is generally likeable and plays some amazingly watchable football. But this past Sunday against the Tigers he revealed himself to be even more awesome than I previously thought. As you all know, a bit of biff occured… albeit very confusing biff. More like a clusterfuck of pushing and shoving than concentrated violence. The ref sends off Tigers forward Bryce Gibbs and Titans hooker Nathan Friend (who is a total mini version of Andrew Ryan donchathink?). Princey is mighty annoyed, goes up to plead his case to the ref and then gives us the biggest footy lolz of the year so far-

“You’ve sent their dumb forward off and you’ve sent off our smart hooker. It’s unfair!!”

Even better, after the game the press asked Bryce Gibbs if he was offended by the comment. He responded with this -

“He’s always called me a dumb front-rower, even when he played here…. “

BRILLIANT! brilllliant! Scott Prince you are my hero.

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